


Next Contestant

by WriteByNight



Series: Sterek Week 2016 [6]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Attempted Sexual Assault, Clubbing, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Derek-centric, Full Shift Werewolf Derek Hale, Hurt Stiles, Jealous Derek, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Murder, Protective Derek Hale, Sterek Week, Sterek Week 2016, Wolf Derek Hale, side effects from date rape drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:38:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteByNight/pseuds/WriteByNight
Summary: Stiles was gorgeous and charismatic. He was intelligent and sarcastic. He was confident and clumsy. He was a reluctantly good person. He was...Currently being loomed over by a tall, massive man with tribal tattoos and short dark hair that reeked of stale cigarettes and too much cologne.Derek's eyes bled red and he did nothing to stop them. With the flashing of the lights and the amount of alcohol he could smell on the man, Derek knew nobody in the club would notice the color of his eyes. They'd think it was a trick of the flashing neon lights or they'd be too drunk to remember anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Sterek Week 2016, Day 6: Wolf!Derek

Derek furrowed his eyebrows as his phone lit up with yet another text notification from Stiles.

' _At the Jungle with Danny, Ethan, Malia and Kira. Stop by after work? :D_ '

Derek's thumb hovered over the keypad as he debated whether or not to reply when he could simply show up and surprise Stiles. It wasn't that he didn't trust Stiles or felt the need to watch over him. Derek trusted Stiles with his heart and soul. He knew that his boyfriend would never cheat on him. Stiles just wasn't a cheater.

Stiles was, however, oblivious. He still couldn't get over the fact that Derek was his boyfriend. It'd taken forever to convince the younger man that he liked him as much as he did. So when people flirted with Stiles, he thought they were joking, or that it wasn't serious. Derek had stopped trying to point out that people flirted with Stiles nearly as often as they flirted with Derek. Stiles just didn't see it. He didn't see _himself_ the way other people did. The way _Derek_ did.

Sometimes, he just wanted to seal Stiles up in a bubble and Derek hated that about himself. He wasn't one of those people who thought that the only way to keep their boyfriend or girlfriend was to lock them away from the rest of the world. He valued Stiles as a person. He wasn't an object to be kept locked up in a glass case to take out every once in a while whenever Derek wished.

However, Stiles' obliviousness was one of the reasons why Derek didn't like going out with the usual group on the weekend. It wasn't that Derek hated dancing or clubs, even though he could barely stand the copious amounts of cologne, perfume, spilled beer and the magnitude of pheromones. None of that was what stopped him from 'joining in on the fun', as Stiles liked to say.

No. The real reason was much worse. Derek knew how jealous he could get and it wasn't a side of himself that he wanted Stiles to see. A flirty waitress was an annoyance and the people who blatantly checked Stiles out in public didn't take much to deal with. Just a simple glare thrown their way and they kept themselves in check. None of them challenged Derek for Stiles or tried to infiltrate their way into his boyfriend's heart.

However, the people that occupied the bars and club that Stiles and his friends occupied were loaded up on alcohol and were eager to pay for Stiles' drinks. They wanted his attention, his time, and his body against theirs. Just the thought of Stiles pressed close against another person's body was enough to make Derek's fingertips itch with the need to let his claws free. He clenched his teeth together to stop his canines from growing through. He was pretty sure he hadn't been able to stop his eyes from changing, though.

His phone chimed in his hand. Another text from Stiles, wondering where he was and why he hadn't replied since he knew Derek would be off of work.

Derek didn't want Stiles to know about his jealous side. His boyfriend dealt with all of his other issues. His first girlfriend's death by his own hand. His guilt over getting together with Kate and his family burning in a fire because he hadn't known better. Running from Beacon Hills with Laura and leaving her on her own to die. Coming back and finding out his uncle was the one to kill her. Killing his own uncle. Being responsible for Erica and Boyd's deaths. His hands were soaked in blood, and Stiles still thought he wasn't a monster. He didn't ignore the beast but saw the man. Stiles dealt with the ghosts of his past and accepted him in a way Derek never thought would be possible.

He didn't want his jealousy to be the deal-breaker. Stiles might have more fun at the club without Derek around, but he couldn't let it go.

' _I'll be there in a few._ '

Derek slipped his phone in his pocket and climbed into his Camaro as he felt his phone vibrate with another text, most likely from Stiles expressing his enthusiasm that Derek was 'finally letting loose' or something.

If only Stiles knew.

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Derek breathed deeply as he entered the club. It didn't matter how many people were crammed inside the moderately sized club, he could still scent out Stiles. He would always be able to find the person that kept him anchored to his humanity. Anger was no longer his driving force. Since Derek had lost Erica and Boyd, Stiles had been his anchor. He followed the scent to a corner of the dance floor nearest to the bar.

He wasn't sure why, but he had thought Stiles would be in the center of the room, surrounded by desperate drunk people grinding all over him, touching him and pressing their lips to every inch of skin available. Or at the bar, where someone would be staring at him with lust in their eyes as they trailed a finger down his arm to grab his hand. They would lean close to him and whisper in his ear, asking if he'd like to come back to their place. And Stiles would laugh it off, so sure that the other person would be joking or that one of his friends had set it up as a joke. He'd wave the person off and flash them one of his charming smiles before he's slide away to rejoin his friends.

Stiles was so oblivious to how he looked. He thought Derek was special. Was the only one who saw him. Which wasn't true at all. He was just the one who noticed first.

Stiles no longer had a buzz cut. Instead, he had let his hair grow out and it was incredibly soft. It had grown to the perfect length so it didn't get in Stiles' eyes but was enough for Derek to run his fingers through and grip gently or to tug on just enough to give Stiles a hint of pained pleasure. Stiles had also grown into his large hands, which had been pretty sinfully alluring when he'd been sixteen, much to Derek's distaste. Stiles was no longer gangly and awkward, even though he was only slightly less clumsy than he used to be. His moles and birthmarks hadn't faded and his skin tone hadn't darkened, but those were things Derek loved about Stiles. He loved the vast array of colors those large doe eyes could portray, the slope of Stiles' nose, his long, dark eyelashes and the light pink, plump lips he loved to kiss.

Stiles was gorgeous and charismatic. He was intelligent and sarcastic. He was confident and clumsy. He was a reluctantly good person. He was...

Currently being loomed over by a tall, massive man with tribal tattoos and short dark hair that reeked of stale cigarettes and too much cologne.

Derek's eyes bled red and he did nothing to stop them. With the flashing of the lights and the amount of alcohol he could smell on the man, Derek knew nobody in the club would notice the color of his eyes. They'd think it was a trick of the flashing neon lights or they'd be too drunk to remember anyway.

He strode over to his boyfriend, who was leaning away from the larger man and laughing nervously as he ran a hand over his head, ruffling his already messed up hair. Derek could tell Stiles was uncomfortable. The younger man only ran his hand through his hair when he was nervous, anxious or stressed out. He could tell from the way Stiles glanced around and angled himself away from the other man that he was looking for a way to make a quick exit.

And Derek was happy to provide him with the opportunity.

Stiles' eyes lit up as he caught sight of him and Derek couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips. His boyfriend always had a way of reaching Derek when everyone else struggled to make a connection with him. Just the way Stiles looked at him was enough to set Derek at ease.

He slid next to Stiles and wrapped his arm comfortably around the shorter male's waist and looped his thumb through a belt loop. He let his claws out and sank them into the dark, tight fabric of Stiles' jeans. Not enough to hurt his human boyfriend, but enough for Stiles to feel the bite of his nails through the fabric.

“Hey, Stiles. Who's this?” he asked with a large smile that felt fake and forced, but it was hard to work up any real enthusiasm for someone who was hitting on his very much unavailable boyfriend.

“Uh, not sure. I never caught his name.” Stiles nearly mumbled as he leaned into Derek.

Derek wasn't sure if Stiles was aware of it or not, but he was almost leaning into Derek like he couldn't hold himself up anymore and relied on him to keep him upright.

“Who're _you_?” The other male asked with a sneer before Derek could ask Stiles if he was alright. He'd expected an energized, upbeat boyfriend that was hellbent on a night of drinking and dancing that led to sloppy kisses, slow sex til Stiles was whining and begging for it, and then a deeply sated, but a little hungover Stiles by morning.

“Are you deaf?' The man demanded, irritated since Derek hadn't bothered to respond. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Muh boyfrien',” Stiles slurred as he leaned further against Derek and nuzzled his forehead against Derek's bicep. “You're _comfy_.”

Derek's heart skipped a beat as he realized that Stiles wasn't just drunk. He was high. But Stiles didn't smoke weed or do drugs. Not since Stiles was a teenager, anyway. He wouldn't be taking anything from a random person at the club, either.

He turned to the other man with a low snarl. “What did you give him?”

“ _I_ didn't give him anything! He's the one who came onto me!” The other man snapped as he glared at Derek. He refused to look away, which just made Derek's invisible hackles rise at the challenge. The guy wasn't a wolf, Derek could tell that much, but he wasn't backing down, which made Derek feel like he was contesting for Stiles' affection.

Derek wasn't about to take that lying down.

“He bought me a mixed drink.” Stiles breathed against Derek's neck as his head lolled onto his shoulder. “I dun' feel s'well.”

Derek narrowed his eyes and realized just how flushed Stiles was. His gorgeous whiskey colored eyes had nearly been swallowed by the black of his pupils. His chapped lips were parted as he panted heavily. “Gonna puke.” he wheezed with an acidic burp as he swayed to the side.

Derek's arms were around Stiles and he had moved them across the club before Stiles had time to take a breath. They burst through the bathroom door and Derek shouldered his way into a stall as Stiles puked all over the front of his shirt and Derek's arm.

He closed his eyes and breathed through his mouth as the smell of vomit nearly forced him to puke as well. He manhandled Stiles until he was on his knees in front of the toilet, but he had to squat and hold Stiles up between his legs since he didn't seem to be able to hold up his own weight. When Derek tried to let go, Stiles fell forward onto the toilet and nearly brained himself on the U-bend.

Derek let out a low howl and waited for Malia to show up as he kept Stiles upright and ran a soothing hand up and down his boyfriend's back. Whenever Stiles had a lapse in puking he would try to apologize, but Derek shushed him and urged him to breathe instead before his stomach protested and ejected it's contents once again.

Malia burst through the door with Kira on her heels. The Asian girl took one inhale and turned green before excusing herself. Malia stepped closer but breathed through her mouth like Derek was.

“What happened?” She asked nasally with a look of clear disgust on her face as she took in the scene.

“Stiles was drugged,” Derek answered gruffly as he adjusted his position. “Why weren't you guys keeping an eye on him?”

“Because we're not his keepers?” Malia replied as she stepped closer. “What do you want me for?”

“I need you to hold him up so I can go after the guy who did this before I wolf out and go feral on the whole damn club.”

Malia slipped into the stall and switched places with him while Stiles continued to pant and dry-heave. “He looks like he's about done.”

“Good. I'll be back as soon as I find out who did this.” Derek told her as he leaned over her shoulder and pressed a quick kiss to the sweaty, matted hair mess atop Stiles' head. “I'll be right back, baby,” he said softly to his boyfriend. In response, Stiles let out a protesting whine that pulled at Derek's heartstrings in response. He wanted to stay and comfort him, but he had to find that man and make sure he paid for drugging Stiles.

Derek darted from the bathroom and gave a short nod to Kira, who looked concerned, but Derek didn't have time to stop and update her. He held back the urge to shift as he walked down the hall and reentered the dance floor. He wound his way through the club as he followed the scent of the man who had been standing over Stiles when he had arrived.

He followed a trail around the outskirts of the dance floor and kept his eyes peeled for the large, tall man. When the scent headed toward the door, Derek followed it out of the club and a little way down the block as it grew stronger as he neared a small alley between two buildings.

He spotted two figures against the rough brick wall, nearly hidden behind a large blue dumpster. He could hear labored breathing and quiet, raspy whimpers as he inhaled the scent of lust and sweat. The smaller body that was pressed up against the wall was trying to put up a fight, but they were failing miserably against the much larger man.

Derek finally let his wolf take over as he half-shifted and shook his body lightly as the transformation completed. He didn't care if he exposed himself as a werewolf to the man drugging people and forcing them against their will for his own release. The man was hardly giving anyone a fair advantage, so Derek wasn't going to give him the same chance.

He held back the instinct to growl as he took three giant leaps toward the pair and stretched out his clawed hand. His nails dug almost a half-inch into the man's side as he flung the man away from the unwilling and drugged young man that was already sliding down the wall without the strength to support himself. Derek turned away from the unconscious man and smirked around his canines as he heard the satisfying crack the man made as he hit the rough exterior of the club and fell to the dirty, pot-holed pavement.

Derek stalked toward the man and bared his teeth and claws as he rested his eyes on the tall, built man currently cowering on the ground. He could smell the man's fear through the overbearing cologne, alcohol and cigarette smoke, which spoke levels to how scared the man must have been since those were very pungent scents and hard to mask.

“What the fuck _are_ you?” the man stuttered breathlessly. Derek wasn't sure if the man could see very well due to the excessive amount of alcohol he had clearly guzzled or if it was the first sign of a concussion that made the man's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head and forced him to squint to see Derek in all his wolfish glory.

Either way, the alpha didn't care. The man had attempted to drug and molest, and probably intended to rape, Stiles and another innocent patron that hadn't had anyone looking out for him. However, the man had no idea that Stiles was part of a pack and had a mate, whom just happened to be the jealous type and protective, as well. There was no way he was going to let the man walk out of the alley without some form of retribution. Hell, if Derek had his way, the guy wouldn't be walking at all.

Derek cracked his neck and arched his back as he shifted into a full-shift wolf. He came down hard on his front paws as he snapped his jaw at the man, who was trying to crawl away from him.

“Shit! Shit! Oh, shitfuckdamn!” The man screamed as the smell of urine permeated through the air.

Derek shook his head to the side as he sneezed at the foul aroma that made the man smell noxious when combined with all of the other repugnant scents flooding off of him. A bitter taste lay heavy on Derek's tongue as the man's fear increased. Anytime Stiles smelled fearful Derek felt the need to cuddle up to his boyfriend and make the thick, acrid scent and taste go away. This time, he reveled in the scent of fear.

He darted forward and dug his claws into the man's upper thigh and dragged them down the man's legs, leaving four lines of torn flesh and rivulets of red blood in their wake. It simultaneously made Derek sick and satisfied him. He'd never been one to take pleasure in inflicting pain on others, that was more Peter's thing, but to hurt someone he knew was getting off on hurting people, well, that was another situation entirely.

He could easily clamp his jaw around the man's jugular and bite down, or rake his claws deep into the man's lower abdomen and let the man's innards spill out. It'd be fine retribution and more than the justice system would ever do if the guy wound up in court.

In the end, Derek slashed the man's face with his left claw and came down hard on the man's chest with his right front leg, putting nearly two hundred pounds of pressure on the man's chest until Derek heard a few satisfying snaps. The man began to wheeze wetly through his mouth amid harsh pants as he struggled to take a breath when Derek was putting so much stress on his lungs. After a moment or two, the man could no longer breathe. A few more seconds later, Derek determined that the man was dead and pulled away from him.

Derek picked his clothes up in his teeth and trotted around the corner, making sure to stick to the shadows as he strode down the block and around the building to the parking lot where his Camaro was before he shifted back. Derek rifled through his jacket until he found his keys and cell phone, and tossed his torn clothing into the trunk as he pulled on a spare change of clothes that Stiles had stashed in a plastic bag for him after a few sticky situations when Derek had come back to the loft naked. Stiles had gone on and on about how embarrassing it would be if his dad arrested Derek for public nudity. With a smile on his face from the memory, Derek checked his jacket, hoping he hadn't ripped it when he shifted. Luckily, it was still intact or he'd have gone back just to piss on the man.

Derek darted back toward the alley and anonymously called 911 to report finding a body, but hung up when the operator asked for details. He shut off his phone, just in case the cops delved deep in the murder investigation later on. Derek momentarily missed the time when pay phones sat on every corner. He pushed the thought aside as he grabbed the other man, the one who'd been drugged and assaulted. Derek swore when he realized how young the guy was. He didn't look old enough to be hanging around a club, let alone get inside and taking drinks from strangers.

Derek could hear the sirens even though they were a mile or so away and picked the young man up in his arms and carried him bridal style back to the parking lot. It took him awhile to get his keys out of his pocket and unlock the car, and he'd had to set the kid down and brace him against the car so she could open the back door. It wasn't as difficult as he thought it would be to get the younger man into the backseat. He just hoped the club didn't have cameras on him, watching as he put an unconscious person in his car. But since it was a club, he was sure they were at least familiar with the concept of passed out friends. Derek would have to pilfer the kid's pockets and drop him off at home after he found out where he lived, but first, he had to get to Stiles and make sure his boyfriend was safe.

He allowed himself to look worried as he approached the club, where a small crowd had gathered around the entrance to the club, and security had blocked off the alley. Derek was well aware that anyone could be watching for suspicious behavior, thanks to his boyfriend's voice in his ear, so he tried to look curious and concerned. Derek hoped he didn't have any blood on his face. He hadn't bothered to check. He tried to remain calm and look like he _hadn't_ murdered someone. His paranoia changed to a look of relief as he caught sight of Ethan and Danny quickly strode toward him with Malia and Kira supporting Stiles between them as they brought up the rear.

“Parking lot,” Derek muttered as he turned around and headed back in the direction he'd just come from. “I found the guy in the alley trying to force himself on another person he drugged. I killed him and put the kid in the Camaro. Can one of you check his ID and take him home? I want to get Stiles back to the loft.”

“I just wanted a simple night out,” Danny said with a sigh as he trailed after Derek.

“We all did,” Kira pointed out as the group rounded the building. She stumbled on the thick stone gravel of the parking lot, and Malia had to support Stiles while Kira regained her balance.

Derek took Stiles off of their hands and unlocked the Camaro almost easily, despite his limp boyfriend in his arms, since he'd done it just a few minutes before.

Ethan crawled into the backseat of the car to pull out the other unconscious man and screwed his face up as he studied the boy. “Isn't this kid always hanging around with Scott's new beta?”

Derek shrugged and placed Stiles gently in the back seat on his side and buckled him in place so he wouldn't roll onto his stomach or back during the ride. Derek didn't pay much attention to Scott's pack since he and Stiles had begun dating seriously. He trusted the true alpha not to turn every troubled teen in Beacon Hills and to manage his own pack better than Derek had ever managed his. So far, all of the people in Scott's pack were still alive, so he was already faring better than Derek had.

“Yeah, I think his name is Mason.”

“Call Liam and see if he's nearby. As far as I can tell, he and Mason are as close as Stiles and Scott are. He should be able to take care of his friend and make sure he's alright.”

Derek shut the door and turned to the small group as Kira brought out her phone and called Liam as Ethan carried the teen toward Danny's car. They seemed to have everything under control, so Derek cleared his throat and announced that he was taking Stiles and he'd text them when he woke up. They waved him off, already absorbed in alerting Liam to the situation and getting Mason into Danny's small sedan.

Derek climbed into the driver's seat and started the Camaro, making sure that Stiles was safely buckled in the backseat before he pulled out of the parking space and began to drive to his home. He comforted himself with the knowledge that Stiles' heartbeat and breathing were both steady and his boyfriend didn't seem like he was having adverse side effects to whatever he'd been given. With any luck, the drug was already out of his system and Stiles was just tired from a day of work followed by a night of dancing and puking his guts out.

Once Derek got to the loft he rushed up the stairs and opened the doors before darting back down to fetch Stiles. After he got his boyfriend safely to his bedroom, Derek locked the Camaro and the doors before stripping and climbing into bed next to Stiles. He cuddled close to his boyfriend's lean frame, even though he smelled of puke, alcohol, sweat and faintly, the dead man's cologne. 

He wasn't sure how Stiles would react to hearing that Derek had killed a man. He knew Stiles didn't think jealousy was an attractive quality, but at least Derek could sleep at night knowing that for once he had killed a man without feeling guilty, and on his own terms because it was his decision. There was one less creep stalking the clubs looking for prey, so Derek wasn't going to beat himself up. Stiles would probably be more concerned about how _Derek_ was handling the situation, now that he really thought about it. Ever since the Nogitsune had inhibited Stiles' body, he had become much more concerned about Derek's own psyche, which had annoyed and angered him, but Stiles had wheedled his way under his skin. And now, Derek wouldn't want him anywhere else.

He traced the outline of Stiles' face with his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to Stiles' temple. His boyfriend was safe, in Derek's arms, and he wasn't going to let anyone hurt him so long as he was around to stop it. He wouldn't stalk Stiles nor keep him on a short leash where he could keep an eye on him, but he could kill anyone that dared to defile him or cause him pain.

And seeing how Stiles just pulled trouble to him just by existing, well, Derek wouldn't be against a little spilled blood if it kept Stiles from being hurt. He'd gladly face the next contestant than wake up to a day when Stiles wasn't in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I'm super aware how late this is. I don't care. I've been busy and I hate my job.
> 
> The title of this fic was inspired by the Nickelback song, " _Next Contestant_ ".


End file.
